Page 62 of Lizbeth's Lesbian Collection

Sitting on stool now, however, in jeans, not naked or in a revealing skirt, the position didn’t have quite the right effect. Her cunt would be spread out and exposed if she were dressed properly for a meeting with Mistress Britta.

“Working?” the Domme asked, noting how Robin was dressed.

“Yes.”

“Too much for you?”

“I just need to forget everything for a while. An old friend of mine is dead.”

The Domme almost broke out in a tender smile, but like so many things with her, it was too subtle to know if she was exhibiting any affection. The woman remained reclined on her couch, looking like a haughty queen bee. Her strawberry blonde hair was piled on top of her head, although it was starting to fall down in a messy disarray. Maybe it was bedtime and it didn’t matter what she looked like anymore. Britta’s lips were as red as an old brick, and she gave off an ancient scent even though she wasn’t very old. She could be arrogant or kind, depending on the need, but the look she gave Robin now was pure disgust.

“You’ll take off your clothes and find something I’d like to see you wear,” she ordered, waving Robin to a corner of the room, where a massive wardrobe stood with its doors wide open and garments spilling out around the floor.

Robin rose to her feet and walked to the wardrobe, disrobing quickly. There was just her blouse, bra, jeans and panties to shed, and of course her shoes and socks. Once naked, she felt a chill in the air that gave her goosebumps. A slender woman with gentle curves, Robin’s best assets were her shapely legs, and perky breasts that, though not large, stood out full and round. Her large nipples were frequently so hard they poked shamelessly through almost any garment. Robin knew Britta would admire her, even though she wouldn’t say a word. Still, Robin liked knowing that she pleased her mistress this way.

Reaching inside the mass of clothes inside the wardrobe, Robin pulled out a red leather bustier, thinking Britta would be especially pleased with the choice. She let her mistress see what she’d picked, lowering her eyes submissively while she waited for the woman’s approval.

“That’ll be enough,” Britta said as she watched, focused on every move the blonde woman made.

While in front of the mirror, Robin pulled the two sides of the bustier around her middle so that they nearly met; then she laced them as tightly as she could, feeling an erotic swell inside her loins, as the self-imposed bondage began to have its effect.

“Pull it tighter, Robbie, will you?” Britta called out.

Robin tugged harder, pulling at her breasts so that they were pushed up to the top of the bustier, having no where else to go. Her nipples sat just over the edge of the leather, while below, the bustier stopped just past her waist. The soft swell of Robin’s hips and the lovely ‘V’ of her cunt radiated an aura of erotic need, matching what rumbled through her needy body.

“You can sit now,” she was instructed.

“You will have my ass, won’t you?” Robin asked anxiously, as she returned to the needlepoint stool.

“I’ll have what I want,” Britta answered, haughtily. “And then maybe I’ll give you what you need. You are unscheduled tonight, and you know how intrusions piss me off.”

On the stool again, with her legs spread wide, Robin’s cunt was the way the mistress wanted, unprotected and vulnerable, open for her to view. The labia were naturally parted so that Britta could see the deep purple folds of skin and the dark cunt hole. Wisps of blonde hair around the pretty, spread out pussy glistened with female dew.

“Put your arms behind you,” the mistress ordered, “wrists together.”

Finally rising from the lounge, Britta gathered her cuffs and rope from a shelf beside her. She was a large firm woman with massive breasts that swung loosely in front of her, while her hips and crotch moved seductively before Robin’s hungry gaze. Robin could see the woman’s pussy through the filmy purple caftan, a nest of dark thick pubic curls, which Robin remembered well with her face pressed firmly against the warm flesh. It would please her to service the woman again tonight, although she hoped that other things would happen first: what she came for and what she needed most.

The mistress pulled Robin’s arms together tightly as she clamped cuffs around her wrists, and then bound them together with rope. As she sat on the needlepoint stool, Robin’s thrust about before her and jiggled, looking erotically alluring. The awkward position hurt, but it was a good hurt. Plus, it served its intended purpose, reminding the submissive of the humble attitude she must assume inside this flat.

“This is for me,” Britta said, taking a crop from the wall. The long black riding crop ended with a loose leather end of thin tied leather cords. A dozen biting cuts landed in succession against Robin’s tits, with the pain instantly horrendous and bringing her to tears. An impassioned groan escaped her lips, which was much more than Britta wanted from her sub. She always demanded quiet, just the sounds of leather and skin during correction—at least at the beginning. How much noise Robin made when the session ended didn’t matter all that much.

“Don’t make me gag you, little Robbie,” Britta purred. “I want to hear the leather when it hits your tits.” She ran the crop along the red lines that now appeared where the skin had once been flawless. They were marked enough to last for a few days. Robin winced feeling the crop

dig into her soft flesh. This poking and prodding hurt as much as the crop hitting her skin. Just for good measure, Britta struck each breast one more time and Robin didn’t utter a sound.

Putting the crop under her arm, the mistress bent down and took each exposed nipple, rolling it between her thumb and index fingers, bearing down and using her sharp fingernails to pierce the flesh. Robin winced at first, then finally squealed when the pain was too much to bear in silence. When Britta let the nipples go, the throbbing sensation that followed was as biting as the pinching, although the pain vanished quickly and Robin breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“You’re feeling like a poor, pitiful baby tonight, aren’t you, little one?” Britta purred. “Stand up.” She stepped back to watch her submissive struggle to rise. It was almost impossible for Robin to pull herself out of the lowly position, without her arms and hands to help her. When she was finally on her feet, Britta shoved her towards an apparatus at the far end of the room: a waist high beam, which had been covered in leather, and included at least a half dozen places to fasten a submissive to the structure, at the bottom and down the sides.

“Bend over,” Britta said, poking Robin with the riding crop.

As she’d done in past sessions, Robin bent at her waist and placed herself over the beam. Then Britta moved in securing her bottoms-up, leaving the rear cleft exposed. Being afraid she might fall, Robin didn’t dare move. She wished that Britta would untie her arms so she could better balance. Although, she would never suggest such a thing.

Britta flailed on Robin’s bottom with a dozen strokes from the riding crop, then after pausing briefly, she laid on a dozen more.

As Robin’s bottom began to burn, she squirmed as much as she dared. Even as much as it hurt, Robin knew the punishment wasn’t yet enough to satisfy the urgent need that brought her here. They were just getting started. Britta next chose a flogger made of at least two dozen shreds of eighteen-inch long leather, bundled together and woven at one end into a thick handle. This whip could be ruthless or affectionate, but it was always capricious.

“You want this in the worst way, don’t you, my darling?” Britta said, as she dangled the cool leather against her submissive’s skin. Robin felt the sensation on her back, along her already reddened ass and down her warm thighs. Turning the flogger around, Britta pressed the thick handle against Robin’s pussy, as if she planned to force it inside. Although it wasn’t likely to fit, the way the butt end moved against Robin’s nether lips, the resulting massage made her hips shift back and forth to maximize the feeling.

---